


Where the Shadow Ends

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Bodyguard Derek Hale, Claiming, Intrigue, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Off-screen Animal Sacrifice, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Psychic Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 103
Kudos: 860
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Sterek Goodness





	Where the Shadow Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> 'Villa' is Roman and 'agora' is Greek but I use them interchangeably here because people are more familiar with 'villa'. Yes, I know they aren't exactly the same.
> 
> Thank you to the people who read this before I was finished and cheered me on, and to Whreflections for the beta work.
> 
> Written for the winner of my last FTH auction. Thank you for being patient, Kali!

Derek walks into the room just as the conversation between his mother and uncle becomes interesting. 

"So you think an oracle of Apollo needs _our_ help?" Talia asks skeptically. 

Peter makes a frustrated sound and sits down on the lounging chair. "That's what I've been saying!"

"So why didn't he ask directly?" Talia asks.

Peter waves a hand. "Obviously, he's being watched."

"What's going on?" Derek asks, wondering what he's walked in on.

Talia looks reluctant to tell him, and Peter looks at him like he's sizing him up for another of his schemes. No, not like he is, he _definitely_ is.

"Derek, darling nephew-" Peter says, and nothing good has ever come from an opening like that. 

"No," Derek says.

Unfortunately, Derek's mother looks ready to hear him out. "What did you have in mind, Peter?"

"I heard the temple was looking for more guards," Peter says. He pours a goblet of wine, looking nonchalant. "Bodyguards for the Pythia."

"If it's what you say, they won't hire Derek," Talia says, obviously already on the same page as Peter even though the idea seems ludicrous. 

"They might. They can't know he's a Hale, of course," Peter says.

"Can we go back to the beginning of the story so I know what in Hades's name you're both talking about?" Derek asks.

Talia smiles and waves a hand at a servant to bring more wine. "Of course. Peter, you tell him."

"Only if you promise not to interrupt," Peter says, almost under his breath. But they're werewolves and it's clearly audible, of course.

"I'm going to write a letter," Talia says after a moment. "Discuss this with Derek. If he wants to infiltrate Apollo's temple under false pretenses, that's his decision."

"Infiltrate-" Derek starts to say, dread filling him.

"Oh, don't listen to her, trying to put it in the worst way possible," Peter says, dismissing his sister as if _he's_ the alpha and she's just his courtier. 

Talia makes a rude gesture on her way out the door, one that makes Derek choke on his wine. He's eager now to get the full story.

Peter is happy to provide, once they head outside to the veranda with a new pitcher of wine and some bread. 

"We're well hidden here in this country," Peter begins. "Most of our clan, our pack, live in obscurity and relative safety. Some of our ancestors went on journeys and adventures, claiming demigod status to explain away our differences. But Talia wants us to stay hidden, perhaps even move away from here and the tales they still tell of our family. The further, the better, she thinks."

This is the first Derek has heard about this. Yes, he's gotten the idea that Talia, his mother, would rather them hide, but he doesn't know anything about moving their entire family somewhere else. "Where would we even go? Another island?"

Peter smiles bitterly. "Outside the region, even."

"But Greece is our home?" Derek says. He tries to make it a statement, but it comes out as a question. The Hales have always lived in the area, even before the rise of Athens. Before the modern age. Greece _is_ their home, or at least, the only home Derek has ever known.

"Home is where our pack is; you know this," Peter says. "No matter where we roam — and we used to roam, according to the family histories I've studied."

This is news to Derek. 

Peter then waves it all away as a mere backstory. "Talia wanted me to travel to Delphi and speak to the oracle there. She wanted, well, I'm not sure what answer she was seeking, but the information I brought back was much more interesting than all that." Peter shoves a full goblet into Derek's hands. "Drink! You look parched. What have you been doing, climbing mountains all morning?"

Derek, who'd been doing exactly that, says nothing. He feels the heat on his face from being caught out, but it can probably be explained away as a temporary sunburn.

Peter smirks knowingly. "Now, just a moment, and I'll tell you about the oracle." He looks out over the veranda to the olive grove in the distance. Derek knows what he sees.

The Hales have gotten very rich pressing oils from olives and wines from grapes. Their already vast fortune has only grown since Talia took over as alpha, but Derek doesn't think of it often. He just knows he can do whatever he wants and that Laura will take over one day instead of him. He's not sure yet what he's going to do with all the free time he has coming up in the future, but in the present, he just uses his time to roam around, keeping their property clear of predators both human and animal. Today he fought off some wolves who were encroaching on a small farm to the west side of the island, then scaled a favorite cliff face overlooking the sea. 

Peter used to deal with dangers on the island, but then Talia put him to work once Derek was old enough, and now he does other, more sedate things. 

"Talia had some questions. Not just about moving, but about our enemies."

"Like the bandits in the cove?" Derek asks.

Peter laughs. "Nephew, if the bandits were our enemies, I would have wiped them out years ago. No. They're useful. They pay to hide away on our island."

"Surely we don't need more gold," Derek says with a frown. He can't imagine taking money from bandits — well, they are more pirates and smugglers, he thinks.

"Their currency is information," Peter says. "It's a sound investment, and they keep less-friendly criminals from coming here."

Derek is learning more than he thought he would today.

"Back to what I was saying. Talia sent me to the oracle, so I traveled to Delphi."

"What was it like?" Derek asks.

Peter shrugs. "First, I had to bring a sacrifice. They did something with it, read its entrails or something equally disgusting, and then deemed me safe to come in and speak with the oracle. Who was not what I was expecting, not at all."

"I heard the new Pythia was…" Derek trails off. He's heard many things about the new oracle at Delphi, but some of the stories are too fantastic to be true.

"We really should call him a _Pytheos_ , but tradition has us calling him the Pythia," Peter says.

"So, they really put a man in the tripod chair?" Derek asks. "Apollo allowed it, after all this time?"

"He's not quite a man, as young as he is," Peter says. "But there's something special about him that makes him qualified even though he's… not female."

Derek blinks. There's only one explanation, one that's been whispered about, but Peter would know since he's been there and seen the Pythia in person. "He's an omega?"

Peter nods. "Yes, very rare, very beautiful. Not graceful in the least, and the boy has attitude, but an omega. I could smell it the moment I walked into the chamber."

"He'd be in danger if word got out about this," Derek says.

"He's guarded closely," Peter says. He looks as if he'll say more on the subject, but he doesn't. It's frustrating for Derek, but Peter does this sometimes. He keeps information to himself.

"So what does all this have to do with me, how did Mom put it, 'infiltrating' the temple of Apollo?"

"He knew what I was," Peter says.

Derek blinks. "Okay. He is the oracle. I'd assume he's able to figure things out like that."

"He looked at me as though he knew me," Peter says with a frown. "And then when we spoke, he deliberately lied to me about a few things. Nothing serious, but certain facts he knew I'd hear as lies. He's very clever."

"You didn't confront him?" Derek asks. "The Pythia lying to a supplicant is… that's not normal, is it? That shouldn't happen."

"I pieced it together," Peter says. "He was asking me for help."

Derek frowns. "I don't get it."

"I need you to go and see for yourself," Peter says. "Something's very wrong in Delphi, and I think we need to set it right."

"Since when do you care about setting things right?" Derek asks. "What's in it for you?"

Peter scoffs. "Think of the benefits of having an oracle on our side, Derek. Just think, for once. Besides," he says, looking away, out into the very far distance, "you can mess with Fate, a little, and make certain choices in your life. But you don't fuck with the gods, and someone is doing just that by messing with Apollo's Pythia."

Peter was never what Derek would call devout, but he had standards, and Derek respected him for it. 

"There's more to it, though, isn't there?"

"Nothing I can prove," Peter says. "That's why I want you to go in and guard the boy."

"I can't just show up and say I want to guard the oracle," Derek says, exasperated by his uncle, not for the first time.

Peter smiles. "Leave that to me."

"I know that look. I'm going to hate this, aren't I?"

Peter just laughs and refills Derek's goblet.

* * *

Derek has to spar with the head of the temple guard in order to prove his talent with a sword. Before he starts, it's like he can hear Peter's voice in his ear. Years of being trained by his uncle have taught him a lot of lessons, and this one is clear in his memory: don't show everything. He'll show his prospective employer that he's competent, but he doesn't want to show he can easily wipe the floor with him. 

There's also the small matter of hiding his strength and ability because he's a werewolf. 

Halfway through the little impromptu match with Alek, the head of the temple guard, Derek feels eyes on him. He looks up and sees a veiled figure watching him from a short distance, and that's when Alek presses in with an attack. 

Derek fights back half-heartedly, wondering if the person watching is the oracle. It's easy enough to fight, but he needs to concentrate on not giving too much away. Alek seems intent on beating him into the ground, and Derek eventually lets him. He doesn't make it too easy, though. 

In the end, the head guard steps back — Derek let himself be pushed into the dust at the last moment, pretending to be caught off guard — and they both nod. 

"You fight well," Alek says. "You gave me more of a workout than I expected."

"I still didn't beat you, though," Derek says, feigning embarrassment.

Alek laughs and gives him a hand up. "If we ever find someone who can, we're in trouble. It's my job to be unbeatable. Protecting the Pythia and the temple is what's important."

Derek looks over at where the veiled figure had been, but they're gone now. "So, do I get the job?"

"It's more than just a job," Alek says seriously. "It's not something that can be taken lightly. You must pledge your service to Apollo if you want to guard the oracle."

Derek frowns. "Of course."

Alek watches him for a moment, then claps him on the back. "Good, good. Well, let me show you around."

The tour is longer than Derek would have thought, since it includes Alek going over several plans that are in place for protecting the Pythia if they are attacked. There's something slightly odd about the plans, but not something Derek can put his finger on. He'll write a letter to Peter soon with his observations. Peter will see what Derek can't.

"Now to meet your charge," Alek says with a twist of his lips. "Beware. The oracle has a strange sense of humor. He takes some getting used to."

"Is it odd, serving a male oracle?" Derek asks.

Alek gives him a sideways look. "We don't serve the Pythia. We serve Apollo."

"And he's always reminding me of that, too," a new voice responds. 

Derek turns his head, wondering how he didn't hear the newcomer's entrance. Then he stops, because the veil is gone and the young man standing there is gorgeous. His eyes alone, the color of amber, would be enough to stop Derek in his tracks on a different day, but his gently upturned nose and plush lips complement him well. And his scent, dear gods, he's most definitely an omega. 

"Have you turned to stone?" the oracle asks. "Or are you going to introduce yourself?"

Derek takes a breath through his mouth, so the scent is not overpowering him. "I apologize."

"This is Derek, the new guard. I was just showing him around," Alek says. "Isn't it your prayer time? Where's your guard?"

A woman comes running in, face red, then. "I'm so sorry, I'm here, I'm here. Pythia, you're supposed to be in the temple."

"I was just being friendly to the new guard," the oracle says. He turns back to Derek. "Good to meet you. I'm Stiles."

Alek frowns. "You know we're not permitted to call you that. It's Pythia or oracle, Derek."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Stiles is not my personal name, it's not even my surname. It's just a nickname. Surely that's not against the rules."

Alek looks at him coldly and Derek gets a shuddering feeling that Alek doesn't like the oracle. "I don't care to be familiar with you. Now go back with Penelope and leave the new guard alone."

Stiles seems to ignore him. "Good to meet you, Derek. Hopefully you aren't such a painful stick in the mud as the other guards." 

Derek isn't sure what to say to that, so he says nothing. Alek nods his head with approval once Stiles leaves.

"You did well for your first meeting," Alek says, watching Penelope follow after Stiles. "He's hard to handle at times."

"I don't understand," Derek says.

"The Pythia sometimes forgets his function and dedication to Apollo in favor of his whims. It's up to us to keep him in line."

"I thought our job was to protect him," Derek says, letting himself breathe through the nose again. The delicious scent of omega lingers, though.

"Sometimes that means protecting him from himself. Actually, that's a large part of the job."

"What do you mean?" Derek asks.

Alek sighs. "I can't tell you how many times I — or other guards — have caught him sneaking away from his duties."

"What do you do when that happens?" Derek asks.

"Rarely do we have to actually punish him," Alek reassures him. "The chief priest has ways of keeping him in line."

"Do I need to meet the priests?" Derek asks.

"In time, of course. They aren't as important right now. Your duties will start out long, but light. That means less time in the inner temple."

"When does my first shift begin?" Derek asks.

"Tonight," Alek says. "I hope you're well rested."

* * *

Derek can't help but think of the oracle as Stiles, he seems so human, and that was the name he gave, after all. One guard tells Derek that the Pythia traditionally sleeps in their own home, but that this one works harder for longer in the temple. 

Derek is set to guarding the perimeter. He's tired, but he can stay awake. He's a werewolf, after all, and he can draw on his strength to keep him going.

Stiles, on the other hand, has no such power. By the time he leaves the temple it's past midnight, and he looks like he's drooping.

"Derek, accompany the detail to the cottage," Alek tells him, and Derek nods and follows.

On the way, Stiles stumbles. He's asleep on his feet. Derek catches him with an arm wrapped around his waist.

"Thank you," Stiles whispers.

"Derek!" Penelope hisses. 

Derek makes sure Stiles is steady before turning to her. "What?"

"We aren't to be too familiar. No touching the Pythia unless we have to."

"So we let him fall into the dirt when he's too tired to walk?" Derek asks. He wonders if Peter would approve of the acid in his words.

Penelope looks around, but the other guards have gone ahead and are looking through Stiles's residence, making sure no one is lurking around the place.

"Well?" Derek asks.

"Be _careful_ ," she says, and goes ahead. 

Derek realizes she didn't even say a word to Stiles. He looks at the oracle now, ready to apologize. 

"Thank you," Stiles says again, before Derek can say more.

"You said that already," Derek says, unable to tamp down a smile.

This close, Stiles's scent is impossible to evade. When Derek tries breathing through his mouth, it only means he can _taste_ it, the spicy-sweet hint of ripe omega. His mouth waters, and his primal side perks up and wants only to taste more, to get to it from its source. 

"Sorry," Stiles says, and steps away. "I should have watched where I was going." His eyes don't leave Derek though, faint surprise there. Under his breath, so other guards can't hear, he whispers a question. "You're an alpha?"

It's not a question that needs a response. If Derek can smell Stiles, there's no way Stiles isn't affected by Derek's scent this close. 

"You're tired," Derek says instead. "Let's get you in the cottage, okay?"

Stiles frowns. "Okay. Yeah. For my three hours of sleep."

"You can't get more?" Derek asks.

"My schedule is full tomorrow," Stiles says with a twist of his lips. But before they enter through the gate, Stiles puts his hand on Derek's forearm. "Be careful here in Delphi. It's dangerous."

Derek means to pull away, or something, but instead finds his hand covering Stiles's. "Dangerous how?" 

"All clear!" Penelope says from inside the cottage's courtyard.

Stiles pulls away and walks through the gate, and Derek watches him go. There's no need to follow him into his home. That's not part of his duty. 

Two guards show up within minutes to relieve him, and then he's told to go on to the barracks and get some rest. He's not on again until noon.

As he's falling asleep, he can't help but think of Stiles's scent, and of the feel of his hand on his arm. Like a teenager with a crush, Derek's going over every single moment of their interaction. He huffs. He's not here to flirt or find a mate — not that the Oracle of Delphi would be allowed to mate anyway. 

Tomorrow he will make a few notes and send them to Peter. Observations he's made that only Peter will be able to piece together. That's what Derek is here for, not romance.

Still, his dreams are full of amber eyes and long eyelashes, plush lips made for kissing, and skin so soft he can only wonder what it would feel like against his own.

* * *

Derek's woken abruptly, ahead of schedule. "Get up," Penelope says, throwing a pillow at his face. "Emergency lockdown in the temple."

"What?" Derek says, suddenly very awake, his dreams of soft omega hands disappearing quickly.

Penelope hands him his sword. "Get to the oracle while the rest of us secure the temple and the grounds."

"Where is he?" Derek asks.

"Inner chamber," Penelope says. "He was supposed to be having his visions or something, I don't know how it works. He can't be pulled away from it or it's dangerous, but someone needs to watch him."

Derek straps on his sword and adjusts his lighter, linen armor. "I don't know how to get to the inner chamber."

Penelope stares. "Someone will point it out to you once you're there. Now move!" Then she's gone, presumably to help secure the temple.

Derek is left to find Stiles on his own. He runs toward the buildings everyone else is fleeing from. He hears shouting, and sees several small fires burning on the edge of the perimeter. He hopes Stiles is okay. He runs faster.

"The Pythia?" he asks a girl in priestly attire when he gets inside the main temple. She's too young to be a priestess, but maybe she's an acolyte. 

She looks scared, but she points out a door Derek hadn't noticed on his first tour of the temple. It's hidden behind a statue and ivy, but once Derek is through, he doesn't need to ask any more directions. He just follows his nose. The scent of Stiles and something else, something strong, pull him along the dark corridor until he comes to a surprisingly large open space. Stiles is sitting on the famous tripod chair, his eyes unseeing. His lips are moving, though, and someone is close to him, writing frantically on parchment. 

"What's going on?" Derek asks in hushed inquiry.

A priest he didn't see when he entered speaks up. "The oracle is giving a prophecy and the acolyte is recording it."

"There's a lockdown," Derek says. "I was told to guard the Pythia."

The priest frowns. "I should go and make sure the others of my order are all safe."

Derek gestures at Stiles. "What do I do about…?"

"He'll come out of his fugue shortly," the priest says, and then, as if by magic, Stiles turns his head and looks at them.

"Derek?" Stiles asks.

Derek nods. "There's a danger here, I came to protect you. Is there a more secure room I can take you to?"

The acolyte rolls up his parchment and the priest says, "This chamber is the safest in the temple. It's well-hidden, though no one should spend too much time here. The air isn't safe long-term."

Derek does feel a little lightheaded, but being a werewolf, he's sure he can withstand whatever is coming up from the crack in the floor.

"Come," the priest says to the acolyte, and then they leave Derek alone with Stiles.

"What is it this time?" Stiles asks Derek.

"I don't know," Derek answers. "But all the guards are taking whatever threat is out there seriously."

"Whatever it is, it's nothing that dangerous," Stiles says. "I would know."

Derek smiles. "I suppose you would."

"You should do that more often," Stiles says, watching Derek's face. 

"What?"

"Smile," Stiles says. 

Derek feels his face heat and he's grateful for the low lighting. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

Stiles grins at him, and he's nothing like he was mere minutes ago. 

"The prophecies, what happens to them once they're written down?" Derek asks.

"The priests try to interpret them," Stiles says. "Then they're put away. There's an entire library of prophecies by past oracles, did you know?"

"No, I didn't. So it's not important?" Derek says with a frown. That doesn't seem right.

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know if they are or not. They're different from the visions I get when I'm not in this room."

"So you do see things, it's not just…"

"Hallucinogenic gas?" Stiles says wryly.

Derek looks away. "I didn't say that."

Stiles sighs. "The visions take a lot out of me. I need to get off this chair, it kills my back."

Derek looks around the chamber, but there's not exactly any cozy furniture to sit on. "Um."

"I know another way out. C'mon."

"I think we're supposed to stay here until the danger has passed," Derek says.

"There's no danger," Stiles says. "I would know if there was."

"Still," Derek says. "It's my second day on the job. I really don't want to get in trouble for not following orders this early on."

"Who ordered you?"

Derek frowns. Technically, Penelope isn't his superior, though she may hold seniority over him. He sighs. "Where would we go?"

"My garden," Stiles says, brightening. Even his scent brightens. How can Derek say no to that?

"Fine. Lead the way."

* * *

Stiles shows Derek out of the temple, a maze of corridors opening up to them where Derek had always thought the temple's layout was so simple. Little did he know. 

"Do the other guards know about these passageways?" he asks.

Stiles turns to him, torch illuminating his face in a soft glow, and he smiles. "Of course. They have to be able to follow if I run away."

"You'd run away?" Derek asks. He knows Stiles has to be joking, but the statement seems an odd joke.

"If I could," Stiles says simply.

"Why?" Derek asks.

"Shh," Stiles says, stopping abruptly. It brings Derek close to his back, so that he can breathe in the scent of Stiles's neck. 

Derek's arms come up automatically to stabilize Stiles when he sways to the side. "What?" he whispers, only barely paying attention.

"Listen," Stiles says, and Derek does. They're close to the surface now, and he hears voices. 

Someone is speaking angrily. "What if the fire was a ruse to steal the oracle away?"

"He wouldn't go," another voice says. "Don't forget what we have."

"But someone could take him."

"The Pythia knows how to scream. We'd come running in a moment."

"But what if someone-"

"Enough," the first voice says. Derek thinks they're guards, or maybe priests. "Find the Pythia and if he's alone, have his security detail flogged. Hell, have the Pythia flogged."

Stiles trembles slightly. If Derek hadn't been so close, he would have missed it.

Derek puts a hand on Stiles's shoulder. Runs his thumb across the bare skin there. "It's okay," he breathes.

They wait in silence with just the one point of contact, because Derek doesn't remove his hand and Stiles doesn't pull away. 

"Are they gone?" Stiles whispers after some long moments. 

Derek listens closely and doesn't hear anything, not breathing or heartbeats. "All clear."

Stiles lets out a breath and finally pulls away, but it's only to open a door Derek hadn't seen. It leads out into the sunlight, and they squint against the brightness of it. Derek didn't even know what time of day it was when he was underground. He can see where it would be easy for Stiles to lose track of time while gives his prophecies.

"Follow me," Stiles says, and Derek has no intention of doing otherwise.

"Who were they?" Derek asks.

"Does it matter?" Stiles answers. "They're all the same."

Derek follows Stiles to a secluded garden, full of fragrant flowering bushes and vines that hang down from the walls. "What do you mean?"

Stiles shrugs. "You'll figure it out. How do you like my garden?"

Derek looks around, breathing in the sweet-smelling air and looking at all the greenery. Stiles is the centerpiece, though, the most beautiful thing around. The best smelling. The most tempting.

"Gorgeous," Derek says, his tongue mostly tied by seeing Stiles here, the sunlight glinting on his hair to make it almost the same caramel as his eyes.

"I was allowed to transplant some things from my mother's garden," Stiles says. "It's not the same as being in hers, but it's all I have."

"Your mother, is she…?"

"Dead, yes. When I was a child."

"And your father?" Derek asks.

Stiles is open and smiling, maybe a little bittersweetly, but smiling, and then his face just shutters, going blank and hopeless. "Apollo decrees I only see him in the winter months."

There's more to it than this, Derek thinks. He knows. Something isn't right.

He tries to change the subject. "What did those men mean about you not leaving? What you said before… about running away. Would you really want to?"

Stiles smiles, but it's marred by the sad look in his eyes. "I want nothing more than to be away from Delphi. But this is my fate."

"So far," Derek can't help but say. "Do you need help? Is that why you lied to my uncle?"

"Your uncle?" Stiles's eyes go from questioning to wide, and fresh hope shines in them. "You're wolf-born? Are you-"

Voices outside the walls of the garden interrupt him, and Stiles goes silent and still. Then he sits suddenly, and snaps his fingers at Derek. 

Derek doesn't know exactly what _that_ means, but he straightens, puts distance between them, and puts his hand at his sword. "Who's there?" he calls out brusquely. Stiles nods at him, so apparently he did the right thing.

"Derek, that you?" it's Alek's voice. "Is the Pythia with you?"

"Yes, and yes," Derek answers. 

Alek comes into view and Derek removes his hand from his sword. "Has the danger been managed?"

"Hmm. We don't know who or why, but one of the barns and a few stalls around the temple caught fire," Alek says. "They let the animals out first, so really the reasons behind it seem suspicious. I think they might have been testing our response."

Derek nods. "The oracle was with me the whole time," he says, watching his words. He almost called the Pythia by name, which has already been established as against the rules.

Alek glances at Stiles. "Everything okay, Pythia?"

Stiles doesn't answer, just shrugs.

"You're on break for another few hours," Alek tells Derek. "Get some food, maybe a nap. I need you sharp for your next shift."

Derek straightens. "Yes, sir." He glances at Stiles, takes in the way he's sitting now with his arms wrapped around his middle. He doesn't say goodbye, but he nods, and Stiles nods back.

* * *

Derek tries to write to Peter the way he was asked to, with details he's picked up about the situation at the temple, but Derek keeps accidentally penning the inconsequential. Peter doesn't need to know the exact color of Stiles's eyes in the firelight, the way they change like amber wine spilling against a golden cup to the churning darkness of the most tempestuous sea. And Peter certainly doesn't need to know how he smells, like everything Derek most wants to bury himself inside. Or that Derek's interest isn't just a flash of infatuation, but how he honestly wants to help — if only Stiles will let him.

In the end, Derek writes down everything he thinks is important, plus details that don't add up even though they don't seem as relevant. He notes that Stiles is frightened by something, trapped, but that he hasn't figured out what it is, yet. 

That's probably what Peter will find out, anyway. 

The next few days are boring. Derek's shifts keep him away from the inner chambers of the temple, and therefore away from Stiles. Every now and then, he gets a whiff of a scent that can only be Stiles — something that's sweet, spicy, and deeply enticing all at once. Derek's wolf is frustrated. Why can't Derek simply follow that scent and find Stiles? But Derek's been fully in control of his wolf for a great number of years, and simply ignores the pull to go after the oracle.

Derek doesn't know the other guards well, and they don't seem the friendly sort. There's an acolyte who shows up a few times where Derek is, though, someone Derek is becoming familiar enough with that he can recognize him in a crowd of other temple priests and acolytes. 

He isn't sure why this one acolyte has decided to befriend him at first. The boy's name is Isaac, Derek learns, and he's been at the temple since his mother died and his father turned on him in his grief. Derek learns that Isaac doesn't particularly like being at the temple, but that it's several steps up from where he was at home. 

Isaac knows something. Derek isn't sure what Isaac knows, but it's just as clear that he wants to tell Derek whatever it is, but that he's feeling him out on how trustworthy he is.

"Are you friends with St-," Derek begins to say but catches himself. "Are you friends with the oracle?" It's been a week since the mysterious but ultimately harmless fire. Isaac has found him almost every single day, almost always making it look like an accident that they're in the same place at the same time.

Isaac gives him a wary look. "The Pythia really doesn't have friends," he says.

"Surely he has someone to watch out for him in this place."

"He's tended to well if that's what you mean," Isaac says. 

Derek frowns. "That's not what I mean, and I think you know it."

Someone walks by and Isaac says nothing until they are out of earshot. "The priests frown on anyone becoming too familiar with the oracle. To most, he's a tool."

"I think it's good if there are more people who see him as a person, don't you think?" Derek asks.

Isaac bites his bottom lip. "I think someone is manipulating him."

Derek straightens. "Who?"

"A man. He visits sometimes, but he's not a priest or a guard. I see him visiting the head of your guard and-"

"Alek?" Derek asks.

Isaac nods. "Not just him. He talks with the priests, as well. But…" He trails off. "I don't know. It just doesn't seem right."

"Have you asked Stiles about it?" Derek asks.

Isaac gives him a steady look. "You should get used to calling him the oracle, or the Pythia, at all times," he says in a hushed tone. "So you don't slip up to the wrong person."

"Who is the wrong person?" Derek asks.

Isaac makes a vague gesture that could mean the entire temple. He probably does mean it that way, Derek thinks. "I only know one other guard we can trust."

"Who?"

"His name is Boyd."

Derek has heard the name but doesn't know who he is. "What do we do?" Derek asks.

Isaac snorts. "Nothing _I_ can do. I'm not strong, I have no means. But you could help."

"How?" Derek asks, then holds up a hand. Someone is coming, and the footsteps sound like Alek's. "Go now," he says, pointing in the opposite direction. 

Isaac disappears without being told twice, but he leaves Derek with lots to think about.

Alek comes into view then, and smiles. Derek gets a cold feeling in his gut. Alek isn't trustworthy. He doesn't have Stiles's best interests at heart. Something is going on, and Alek is involved, and this information has Derek seeing his superior in a different light.

"Hello. Just wanted to give you a quick heads-up," Alek says. "One of the guards is sick, so you have to help watch at the Pythia's cottage tonight."

Derek nods even as his heart begins to beat faster. He feels a smile in his heart, and hopes it doesn't show on his face. He turns his head, just in case. "What time you want me up there?"

"An hour before midnight will work just fine," Alek says. "It's easy work. The village will be asleep, and if you're in luck, so will the oracle."

Derek wants to object, to say he doesn't mind Stiles, but that's giving too much away. "I understand," he says instead.

"Great. See you tomorrow," Alek says, and claps him on the back before walking off.

* * *

Stiles isn't asleep when Derek gets there, and he doesn't look like he's going to bed any time soon. Though with the way he smells and looks, the way his eyes brighten and show his happiness when he spies Derek, make thinking about bed a dangerous thing to do.

The other guards are outside the layout of the cottage, and Derek's job is to stay on the inside perimeter, in the inner garden. Someone was indeed sick tonight. This is the closest Derek's gotten to the cottage since he's been on the job. 

And then Stiles invites him in. 

"Are you sure this is okay?" Derek asks as he crosses the threshold. "I probably shouldn't."

"I need to speak with you," Stiles says. "Now is the best time. No one's around. No one wants to disturb my sleep, so they won't come in to check on me."

Derek nods. 

"Sit down. Would you like some wine?" Stiles offers. "I hear it's good hospitality to offer, but I so rarely have guests, I've forgotten the etiquette."

"I shouldn't drink while I'm on duty," Derek says awkwardly. "Not that it really affects me, but…"

Stiles doesn't seem offended. "Water, then? It's from the spring. Still cold."

"Thank you, yes," Derek says, and watches as Stiles leans over the jug and cup to pour Derek's drink. 

"I'm glad you're here," Stiles says. "It took a little sleight of hand to give that guard a stomach ache, but I think I did alright."

"You… poisoned him?" Derek sputters, then gives his cup a comically leery look. "Should I be worried?"

Stiles laughs, and Derek's glad he made the joke. Stiles's laughter isn't sweet, like the tinkling of gentle bells or any of that nonsense, but it's honest and makes Derek's heart warm. 

"Don't worry, he'll be alright, just some time spent in the latrine tonight," Stiles says. "He'll be fine tomorrow."

Derek winces, though he can't feel that bad about it. Stiles needs to speak with him, and Derek is eager to listen. 

When Stiles's laughter dies and he gets a serious look on his face, Derek knows it's time to hear his story.

"I'm being coerced," Stiles says abruptly. He takes a long swallow of his wine and shakes his head. "My father is in danger. I've been forced to make false prophecies, to give the wrong advice, to petitioners."

The news is shocking. "Who would dare do such a thing?" Derek asks. He puts his water down and stands again, beginning to pace. "This is an affront to Apollo, not to mention illegal to threaten you in this way. Where is your father?"

Stiles looks relieved. "Thank you."

"For what?" Derek asks, still pacing, wondering what he can do to help Stiles at this point, to get his father away from whoever is threatening him. Peter will help, of course, and possibly Derek's mother. Hell, this is an affront to the _gods_ , the whole pack might get involved. 

"Derek, stop for a minute," Stiles says. He gets up and places a calm hand on Derek's arm, and Derek stills. They're close now, and the proximity gives Derek another thing to think about. He suddenly feels a lot calmer, too. He knows Stiles must be using his omega pheromones to calm him, but he finds he doesn't mind. Being close enough to touch Stiles, to be touched at this moment, is heady. Stiles smells delicious, and Derek could get lost in his eyes. God, his lips are so close, and Derek only wants to lean in and kiss him. 

Stiles takes a step back, blushing. "Sorry, I think I went overboard with the omega whammy."

Derek shakes his head. "I'm sorry, myself," he says when he realizes he almost kissed the fucking Pythia of Apollo, the oracle of Delphi himself, without so much as a by-your-leave.

Stiles gives a small, forgiving smile. "To answer your question," he begins, "I don't know where my father is. He was taken from his home, quietly, and is being held by someone."

"Who?" Derek asks.

"I don't know, he's always wearing a mask when he visits. I was hoping..." Stiles says, and pauses to swallow hard. He looks at Derek imploringly. "I was hoping you might be able to find out who it is, and help me get my father back."

"Why me?" Derek asks, but then wants to kick himself when Stiles's face falls. "I mean, of course I'll help. But why _me_?"

Stiles's smile returns and he steps closer. "Well, I _am_ the oracle. I see things, true things, sometimes. I may have to give false information to others lately, but I know the future in some ways. I've seen you, and your uncle, and others. I've seen you helping me. A lot is cloudy to me, but this? I know you're a good man, Derek. I know…" He trails off and looks at Derek steadily. "I know things."

Derek shivers, and Stiles takes yet another step closer, so that Derek can feel the heat from his body and smell the sweetness of his scent. Stiles is unclaimed, most probably untouched, and Derek just wants to take him into his arms and then… see where things go.

"You shouldn't stand so close if you don't want to be kissed," Derek says without thinking.

Stiles's smile goes wicked. "If you're asking for permission…"

"I am," Derek says quickly. "I shouldn't. You're the oracle. I'm… just me. But by the gods, I want to taste your lips on mine."

"We've got hours until sunrise," Stiles says softly. "You can taste more than just my lips, if you want that, too."

Derek groans at the words and grabs Stiles's shoulders to bring him in close. He kisses him then, licking and tasting and wanting to devour, but not wanting to scare Stiles too much with his intensity. The wolf inside him is howling, demanding Derek claim this omega, insisting he is the perfect mate. Derek tells it to hush, pushing it to the back of his mind, as he tries to gentle his kiss. 

Stiles whimpers when Derek slows. "No, like that, that's good," he pants, already breathless.

Derek growls and Stiles makes that sound again, something Derek's primal side interprets as surrender and submission. 

Unfortunately, there is a knock on the door, then — or _fortunately_ , since Derek and Stiles are still dressed.

Derek wants to hide Stiles away from whoever is there, but then Stiles is pulling away and grabbing Derek and shoving him into a hidden space in the wall behind a mirror. "Stay here. Don't come out, no matter what you see or hear."

The glass is two way. A mirror on one side, but from where Derek is hiding, he can see through it as though it's a darkened window.

He sees Stiles straighten his clothes, then muss his hair a bit, to look as though he was sleeping. He's clever and Derek adores him.

A man comes into view, but he's wearing a mask, just like Stiles said. Derek takes note of everything about him, from the style of sandals he's wearing to the kind of mask on his face. His scent is muted, since they aren't really in the same room, but once it gets to Derek's nose, he takes memorizes every note of it. It isn't anything like Stiles's, nothing fresh or good about it. Derek will recognize this man if he ever sees him again, mask or not.

"Pythia," the man says. 

"What do you want?" Stiles answers flatly. "Where is my father? When can I see him?"

"Manners," the man in the mask chides. "I am your guest, am I not? Where is your hospitality?"

"I haven't had a guest in so long, I forget what to do. Maybe if I was allowed friends, or family, I'd be more willing to offer you wine."

The man laughs. "Ah, I wouldn't take it from you, anyway; you'd likely poison it. Of course then you'd never see your father again."

Stiles swallows and fists his hands impotently at his sides. Derek's wolf wants to jump out from their hiding place and tear the man to pieces.

The masked man laughs again. "It's so lovely to see you brought to your knees. The powerful oracle of Delphi, subject to my every whim. Who knew it would be so easy?"

"What do you want?" Stiles grits out.

"I brought some notes for you," the man says, pulling two scrolls from his robes. "And a letter from your father, as requested, to prove he's still well. He _is_ well, Pythia, but if you don't continue to do as I say, he won't be in that state for very long."

Stiles snatches the scrolls from him and hastily opens the first. He stares at it for a moment, then looks back at the man with the mask. "I don't understand."

"Just say the right things to the right people, and your father will be unharmed."

"I didn't know what you were doing at first, but this… this is war. You're inciting a civil war."

"You don't need to understand my motives, boy," the man says. He walks closer to Stiles and grabs his chin. Derek holds back his growl, but he's ready to jump out if Stiles is directly threatened. They will deal with the consequences later.

"But-" Stiles says, eyes frightened, trying to pulls away.

"Just do as I say."

The hopelessness in Stiles's expression is killing Derek. But then Stiles glances at the mirror and seems to remember he has Derek, now. That he's not alone. And Derek is determined to help. Stiles won't look this hopeless again. Derek will write to Peter and figure this out. They'll find a way to save Stiles and his father and… what sounds like the whole of Greece.

When Stiles looks back at the masked man, he's not as cowed. "If that's all, you may leave."

The man pulls his hand away from Stiles's chin and nods. "Yes, I was going to do that anyway."

"But I want to see my father," Stiles says.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. You have his letter, now. That will have to be enough. If you're good, I'll have him pen another."

Stiles holds on to the unopened scroll. He swallows. "I-"

"You are in no position to make demands. Now, I will leave. If you tell anyone, I will find out. I have eyes everywhere."

"I'm fully aware," Stiles says bitterly. The man must mean the guards like Alek and the priests at the temple.

The masked man takes a mocking bow, then leaves out the back door. Derek hopes he didn't notice the lack of guard outside.

Once he's gone, Stiles stares at the unopened scroll, the one from his father. Then, in a hush, he says, "If he's gone, you can come out."

Derek listens to make sure the masked man hasn't stuck around outside, but he hasn't. So he opens the mirror from a latch on the inside and steps back into the room. Stiles looks at him with pinched lips. 

"See?"

Derek nods and comes closer. Slowly, so that Stiles could pull away, he wraps his arms around the boy. Stiles doesn't push him away but leans his head on Derek's shoulder and sighs shakily. Then Derek smells the unmistakable scent of salt tears as Stiles begins to cry.

Derek holds him tighter and Stiles takes that as permission to cry in earnest. He sobs, though it's quiet, as though he's used to keeping his emotions private. Secret. 

"I don't know what to do," Stiles says once he can speak again.

Derek leads him over to the couch and sits him down. Then he kneels at his feet, looking up to him earnestly. "Leave this to me. I'll contact Peter. He'll know what to do." And if Peter can't sneak his way through this one, he'll go to his mother, who will crash through the problem with all the money and authority she has at her disposal. "We'll get your father back."

"You can't promise that," Stiles says miserably.

Derek takes Stiles's face in his hands, holding him still with gentleness and reverence. He thumbs Stiles's tears away and smiles. "Trust me. We'll get through this."

Stiles searches his face. Then he reaches down and cups his cheek. "Thank you. Yes. I trust you." He says the words as if he can't believe them. 

"Are you okay here alone?" Derek asks. "I want to follow the man's scent while it's fresh, see if I can find where he goes."

"Be careful," Stiles says. "And be back soon. You need to be here when the guard changes, so no one suspects."

"You be careful, too," Derek says. He hates to leave him without someone to protect him, but he should follow the scent trail as soon as he can.

Out of nowhere, Stiles pulls a gleaming dagger. It's small, but Derek imagines it's sharp enough to cut silk at a touch and perhaps debone anyone who threatens the boy. "I can handle myself."

Derek gives him a quick smile, then leans up and kisses Stiles's plush lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Then, as an afterthought, "Save the scrolls. I'll send them along to Peter, too."

Stiles nods. He's smiling again, likely from the kiss. Derek's wolf is quite proud of that feat.

* * *

Derek loses the scent as soon as it weaves through the marketplace. There's a celebration for the upcoming games and people are still out, even this late, and the crowd is full of discordant scents that mask the man Derek tried to follow. 

Frustrated, he returns to Stiles with nothing.

"I'm sorry. I thought if I could figure him out tonight, then…" Derek says, not knowing how to finish that.

"It's okay," Stiles says. "I can wait. I know we'll figure it out."

"You know, or…?" Derek asks hesitantly.

"I haven't seen the outcome yet, but I've seen you helping me. I know you'll do everything you can. I trust you," Stiles says.

"Just like that?" Derek asks.

Stiles smiles then, and it's like a glimmer of dawn after the longest night. It's hope, and it's contagious. "Sun will be coming up soon," he says. "You should be in the courtyard on duty when someone comes to relieve you."

Derek doesn't want to leave his oracle's side again. He wants to stay with him, comfort him, maybe kiss him some more. But Stiles is right, he can't be caught out if he wants to stay in a position to help him.

"Here," Stiles says, and opens a trunk. Inside, there are many small scrolls, and Derek makes a questioning sound when Stiles starts handing them to him. 

"What are these?" Derek asks.

Stiles gives a sly smile. "All the evidence I have so far. Every scroll I was supposed to burn. The masked man brings me these things to tell others, but he's not very smart. It I was him, I'd have me memorize the contents in front of him, then burn them in his presence. But he's too cocky, too sure of himself. He's sloppy. Not sloppy enough to get caught yet, but we'll get there."

"And the one from your father, did you read it while I was out?" Derek asks.

Stiles nods. "Dad's definitely sending me some kind of message, but I don't understand it. He mentions a few things I don't remember or know to be false, so they have to be code, or a message I don't recognize."

"Keep the scroll and write down everything in it that's wrong," Derek says. "We'll give that to Peter, too. If there's a hidden message, he'll find it."

"I feel like I should know it, but…" Stiles looks frustrated. Derek takes him into his arms once more and kisses his forehead. 

"We'll figure this out. We'll get your dad back."

"Thank you," Stiles whispers. Then he pulls away and nods. "Okay. Get outside before someone notices you aren't there."

Derek frowns, thinking of something. "Do you think the masked man noticed he bypassed security too easily?"

Stiles's lips twist bitterly. "The guards know him and let him in. They usually stay back in the shadows when they see him coming."

It pisses Derek off that so many people, especially those tasked with guarding Stiles from harm, are in on this. But it reminds Derek there's no one he can trust in Delphi.

"Go," Stiles says again, and this time Derek leaves him. He has scrolls tucked within his armor where no one can see, but he's very much aware of them. 

He's also aware that this much information, as volatile as it is, can't simply be sent by courier. 

He needs to summon Peter to Delphi to help.

* * *

Three days later, Derek is outside the barracks, about to go in, when he hears voices coming from Alek's office. Normal humans wouldn't be able to hear, but Derek's been on edge and his senses are on high alert. So, that's how he finds out Alek and two other guards are plotting to dispose of another guard they find suspicious, the one called Boyd who Derek hasn't even met yet.

"He knows something's wrong, and when I approached him about keeping things to himself, he got defensive and angry. We can't have this go wrong. We have a good thing going here," Alek tells his subordinates. 

"Don't worry, sir," someone says, and Derek is shocked to hear Penelope's voice. "We'll deal with him."

"Make sure you dump the body outside the city. And you," Alek says to the other guard, whose identity Derek doesn't know yet, "take his things out so it looks like he ran. Abandoned his post."

"Yes sir," the unknown guard says.

"The new guard is suspicious, too," Penelope says. Derek jumps when she uses his name.

"Leave Derek to me," Alek says. "I'll talk to him. He's from a poor family, he'll probably jump at the chance to have more gold in his pocket."

Poor…?

Oh, right, the cover story Peter crafted for him. 

"If you say so. I think he has an infatuation with the Pythia, though," Penelope says. 

Derek mentally kicks himself for being so transparent.

"I'll keep that in mind when I speak with him," Alek says. "I may be able to twist that to our benefit."

Derek slides away from the barrack wall where he was listening, and goes to find Boyd.

He's surprised to find him in the temple with the acolyte, Isaac, and another priestess-in-training he doesn't know. 

"Boyd?" Derek says to the man. "I need to speak with you."

Boyd looks at him suspiciously, The acolytes look worried. 

"Alone, please," Derek says.

"No way," the female acolyte says. 

"Erica, hush," Boyd says. 

Erica doesn't look like she's letting Derek take Boyd anywhere. "Anything you say to Boyd, you can say to us."

Derek scowls, but Boyd doesn't look like he's budging.

"You can trust us, sir," Isaac says.

Derek looks around and listens for others nearby. No one is there. He turns back to Boyd. "You need to get out of Delphi. Alek ordered you killed. You need to move _now_. Don't even go back for your things."

Erica's eyes go big and teary, but Isaac and Boyd look resigned.

"How do you know this?" Boyd asks, but doesn't question the truth of it.

"I heard them," Derek says simply.

"I don't have anywhere to go," Boyd says.

Derek nods. He anticipated this. He pulls a small pouch of gold from where it'd been tucked against his chest. "Take this and go to Talia Hale, of the Triskele islands. Just keep going until you get to her. Tell her Derek sent you."

"And she'll listen?" Isaac asks suspiciously.

Erica is eyeing the pouch of gold. "Where did you get that?"

Derek ignores the acolytes and focuses on Boyd. "Go now."

"Not without me, you're not," Erica says. 

"I'm coming, too," Isaac says. 

"I can't ask you to just abandon the temple like this," Boyd says awkwardly.

"You're our friend. We can't just let you go alone," Erica says, and Isaac agrees with a nod of his head.

They're all so young.

"Make your decision, and make it fast. They may be looking for you now," Derek says.

Boyd looks at the acolytes and nods.

Convinced now that Boyd will be okay, Derek hurries out of the temple before anyone can see him conspiring.

* * *

Peter comes a day after Boyd disappears. He sneaks right up on Derek, making him jump. Peter smirks, always happy to get a reaction.

Derek rolls his eyes. "Did anyone see you?" He leads Peter down a narrow alley with more than one escape point.

"What am I, an amateur?" Peter says. He sounds genuinely offended. 

Derek's missed him, but he doesn't know how long they have. He gets right to the point. "I have some scrolls for you to look at." He listens for a moment, makes sure no one is around. "I hid them outside the city. I couldn't risk being caught with them."

"I'm glad to see you've learned something from my years of nonstop guidance," Peter says lightly. "What is in the scrolls?"

Derek tells Peter what he witnessed, and what Stiles told him. 

Peter goes still and silent until Derek is finished giving him every piece of information he has. 

Outwardly, his face gives nothing away. His hands aren't even clenched. But Derek can feel his roiling emotions through their pack bond, and Peter is anything but calm. Inside, he's raging.

Derek nods, understanding the reaction. Peter may not be the most devout, but he knows better than to fuck with an instrument of the gods.

"Anything more?" Peter asks.

"I sent three people to Mom," Derek says. "A guard who was about to be killed, and two of his acolyte friends."

"Do they know what we are?" Peter asks.

"I'm sure if they don't, they'll find out soon enough. I think…" Derek trails off for a moment, then says, "They seem like they would benefit the pack. Especially Boyd, the guard. He's strong and honest, and knows the value of loyalty. If Mom doesn't want him for the pack, she'll at least get along with him. But I hope he joins us."

"High praise indeed," Peter murmurs. The rage is back down to a simmer, and he has his scheming face on. "What can you tell me about the Pythia, that hasn't been in your letters? I don't need to know more about his eyes or his lips, Derek."

Derek feels the flush in his face. "He's a good person. Afraid for his father. Ready to do anything to protect what family he has left."

Peter nods. "Does he have a successor in mind?"

Derek blinks. 

Peter looks at him, a familiar impatient expression Derek is used to from his uncle. "He can't stay in Delphi once we rescue his father, it won't be safe. But if he feels for you as you do for him, he won't want to come back, anyway."

"Oh. I don't know if he, um," Derek stammers.

Peter's look is withering. "I suggest you find out. Don't worry, you'll have time once you're away from Delphi. But he should have a successor in mind now, for the interim and possibly for the long-term."

Derek hasn't thought about it, but Stiles is clever. He's probably already ahead of them with this. 

"How do we find the masked man?" Derek asks his uncle.

"We work backwards. I'll study the scrolls and see who and what the lies benefit the most."

"There's the letter from Stiles's father, too. Stiles said he thinks there's a message coded in it, but he can't crack it."

Peter's flash of interest and curiosity come down the bond, and Derek knows he's eager to solve the puzzle.

Derek is so thankful he has his uncle here to help him. "Thank you. For coming."

"Laura and Cora are picking up the slack. It's good practice for them for the future," Peter says dismissively, as if it was his idea to leave them with Derek and Peter's duties, and this visit is just his way of training them.

Derek smiles knowingly. Peter has to be itching to get back home to his alpha's side. 

"So when do I get to meet this oracle of yours?" Peter asks.

"He's not _mine_ ," Derek mutters. 

"Hmm," Peter says. It's blatant in its mocking.

"I don't even know if he- What if the only reason he- He can't-" Derek tries to say, but he can't finish a sentence for anything now, thinking about Stiles and all the possibilities.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Peter says, waving his hand. "But I do need to meet him. Let me study his father's letter, first. Then we'll decode the hidden message. It's probably a clue as to where he's being held."

Derek nods. "That's what we thought."

"Well, tell me where to find these scrolls," Peter demands. "The sooner I get started, the better."

* * *

Alek calls Derek into his office that afternoon, while Peter is off doing gods know what. "It''s time we discuss your place here," Alek says, and Derek's blood runs cold. He knows he can take Alek if it comes down to it, but then he'll have to get out of the city quickly, with the entirety of the Delphinian guard on his tail.

And Stiles will be left unprotected.

"Sit down, sit down. Don't look so frightened. This is a good thing."

Derek sits as he's directed, and Alek smiles. The smile doesn't reach his cold eyes. Derek is reminded of an asp that bit him once. It didn't do any long-term damage, but the venom hurt like hell before his body purged it.

"I've been watching you," Alek says, and Derek tries not to worry. "You're a dutiful worker, a good fighter, and you take long shifts without complaint. I think that deserves a reward."

"Sir?"

"When you first came, you mentioned your family. You're sending all your pay to them, aren't you?" Alek asks.

Derek is once again reminded of the cover story he and Peter worked out. "Yes, sir," Derek says.

"Well, I have an opportunity for you. It could mean more gold for you and your family. You have a little sister, you said?"

"Cora, yeah," Derek says. It's not a lie, at least.

"How old is she?" Alek asks.

"Newly eighteen," Derek says.

Alek nods sagely. "She should be marrying soon, don't you think? But I understand. Without a decent dowry, without family means or connections, it's difficult to find a good marriage in these times."

Of course Cora, the real Cora, could have anyone or anything she wants. She won't be ready for marriage for some time, and when she does marry, the person she choses will be strong and smart and loyal, a benefit to their mother and the pack. Of course, Alek doesn't know any of this. He thinks Derek's family is poor, and a daughter of marriageable age some kind of burden they can't wait to be rid of.

"What are you suggesting, sir?" Derek asks.

"I can help you with your sister's situation. With your entire family," Alek says. "And all you have to do is go along with what the rest of the guards already know and do."

"What's that?" Derek asks warily.

Alek smiles. "The oracle has a friend who visits, and he pays us handsomely to look the other way when he comes in. Sometimes we're given other, minor, tasks. But it's all very easy. Just don't ask questions about what it all means, and you can have gold lining your pockets and all the connections you want. The guards at Delphi are like a family. And family helps each other out."

The way Alek says it, it almost sounds reasonable. If Derek didn't know the 'friend' who visits the oracle is setting Greece up for a civil war, it wouldn't even sound that bad. A lot like one of Peter's schemes. 

"Just look the other way?" Derek asks quietly.

Alek smiles even broader. "Yes, that's all."

Derek stays silent for a few moments, as if weighing his conscious against the promise of gold. Then he gives a hesitant nod. "That might… I mean, okay. I can do that."

Alek claps his hands together. "Good. I'll talk to you again soon. I'm very pleased with you, Derek. You may even gain a promotion after this."

* * *

Peter visits him that night while Derek is on duty. Derek's uncle keeps to the shadows and speaks lowly so no one will know he's there, but Derek is ready to leave and give up the ruse as soon as he hears the news.

"I know where Stiles's father is being kept," Peter says, and Derek wants to storm out and find him immediately. "Calm down. Take some deep breaths," Peter commands. "We have to be smart about this."

Derek doesn't understand at first. If they rescue Stiles's father, the masked man won't have anything on Stiles anymore and he'll be safe to do whatever he wants. But then Derek thinks of the man, of his demeanor and some of the things Stiles said about him. Stiles is useful to the masked man right now, but as soon as the leverage is taken away, there will be nothing stopping the man from retaliation. 

"I know men who are power-drunk. Take the power away and they strike back," Peter murmurs. "We have to do two things simultaneously: rescue the father, and protect the oracle."

Down in the courtyard, many people are celebrating the beginning of the Pythian games, as they have been for the past four days. Today, everyone gathered to see the reenactment of the victory of Apollo over Python. Tomorrow, the running events will start.

There are many strangers, visitors from all over Greece, who've come to watch the games. The masked man is surely among them, but the scents are all mixed and hard to pick out. If the masked man was alone somewhere, Derek would be able to pick him out. But like this?

The games will continue for a few more days, with foot races, wrestling, and of course the traditional music and recitations of poetry. On the last day, the equestrian races will be held. What day would it be safest to put a plan into action? And what, exactly, is the plan?

"We can't count on the man to honor the truce, can we?" Derek murmurs.

The Sacred Truce, or Hierominia, not only kept the peace on a large level by keeping armies or small bands of soldiers from attacking Delphi, but it kept crime in check, as well. No one would dare commit an act of violence during the games, the punishments being steep not just for the people involved, but for all of Delphi. Excessive violence would stop the games entirely, leaving a very disgruntled and vengeance-minded mob to contend with. 

But the masked man doesn't seem to fear Apollo's wrath, and Derek and Peter can't count on Stiles staying safe because of the truce. Especially with Alek and his guards all in on it, being paid handsomely.

"What do we do?" Derek asks Peter.

"With the pack's help, we can free the father. But you'll have to take the Pythia away and keep him hidden and safe." Derek can barely see him in the shadows, which of course is the point.

"Thank you," Derek says. "For helping."

A hand rests on his shoulder for a moment, Peter's way of acknowledging the gratitude. "I'll let you know when it's time. The Pythia knows a secret way out of the city, but you'll have to be on your guard."

"How soon, do you think?" Derek asks.

"I've already contacted your mother and she'll be moving into position soon with the pack. So less than a day, if travel goes well. You know we're much swifter than anyone's chariot."

It's faster than Derek dared hope. "Did you tell Stiles?"

"Yes, very briefly. He's anxious and I'm afraid it will tip off the other guards. You need to find a way to calm him."

"I can't spend much time with him or the other guards will get suspicious," Derek says with a frown.

"That will change soon enough. You know how to sneak into places, nephew. I did teach you, did I not?"

Derek sighs. "Yes, Peter." He doesn't mention how anxious he is, too. No doubt his uncle can smell it on him. Thankfully, no comment seems forthcoming.

* * *

Derek still hasn't had a chance to sneak to Stiles to keep him calm when, at midday, everything changes. There's a raven in the sky, and Derek recognizes him as his mother's friend, Aelian. Peter is nowhere to be seen, but Derek knows the raven is a sign. _The_ sign.

It's time to go.

The city is busy watching the games, and Stiles is sitting on a dais, under some sheer curtains, in the agora. It looks as if Stiles is veiled as well. But as Derek approaches from behind, stealthily, he realizes something is wrong. The scent is off. And the person sitting on the dais isn't Stiles.

Derek looks around, keeping his sudden frantic energy under wraps. He scans the crowd, but sees no one familiar but his fellow guards. No one seems to realize Stiles isn't there, or maybe it's a trick. Maybe they've taken Stiles somewhere, maybe he's in danger, maybe the plan was found out-

"Meet the Pythia in his garden," someone whispers as they walk past. Another acolyte, one Derek doesn't know, and therefore doesn't trust. This could still be a trap.

The acolyte who spoke weaves into the crowd and disappears. Aelian has found a high perch, and Derek swears he's staring at him.

Right. Even if it is a trap, Derek still has one advantage. He's a werewolf, and no one in Delphi knows this but Stiles. If Derek gets into a fight with a guard or five, he can fight his way out of it. 

He leaves the crowded square behind and follows the winding path to Stiles's hidden garden, ready for a fight. He doesn't know what he expects, but what he finds is Stiles, pacing, visibly agitated and unable to stop moving.

"Stiles," Derek calls out.

Stiles startles, jumping and turning at once. "Derek!"

And then Derek has his arms full of a deliciously warm, relieved omega who smells like heaven and feels even better. 

"We have to go," Derek says, not letting go of him quite yet.

"I packed light," Stiles murmurs, seemingly not ready to step back, either.

Derek takes his control firmly in hand and steps back, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Peter said you know a way out of the city?"

Stiles nods. 

Derek only needs to know one thing. "One question: who is that in your place at the games?"   
"Lydia," Stiles says. "She's a friend, and she's eager to be the next Pythia. I didn't tell her everything, just that I needed her to take my place today. She said she'd get answers out of me next time we met. I don't know. Am I even coming back?"

"If that's what you want," Derek says evenly.

Stiles stares at him for a moment, then mutters something unkind under his breath. "Fine. Okay, let's go now. This way." What looked like a wall behind some hanging ivy is actually another door. "Tunnels. Hope you don't mind rats and spiders."

* * *

The tunnel is long, and twisting, with turns Derek doesn't even see but that Stiles navigates like he has the map etched on his heart. If he's been dreaming about escaping to rescue his father, it probably is.

"How'd you learn this?" Derek asks as Stiles deftly steers them around another 'dead end' that wasn't actually blocked at all. 

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, dusting away a cobweb, and smiles in the torchlight. "My predecessor made me learn it before I took over for her. She wouldn't turn over the title of Pythia until I had an escape route."

"Why?" Derek asks, sidestepping another scurrying rat. It's a narrow corridor, and brings him flush against Stiles's side.

Stiles blinks at him, his eyes glowing amber in the light from the torch. "I think she saw this. She knew a lot, had more visions outside the chamber than I do."

"What happened to her?" Derek wants to know.

"She died a week after passing the title to me," Stiles says. There's a sadness in his voice. 

Derek reaches to squeeze Stiles's wrist. "I'm sorry."

Stiles shrugs and turns back to the tunnel. "We're almost out. Where, exactly, are we heading after this?"

"My pack's land. My mom and Peter will rescue your father and bring him there."

Stiles takes a shaky breath. "Okay."

The tunnel ends behind a waterfall. Stiles goes right through the falling water, and Derek follows. On the other side, Stiles's clothes cling to him and Derek only wants to strip him out of them. Stiles seems to have the same idea, though, and does it for himself.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks once they are to the bank of the stream and Stiles has already removed his outer clothing. 

"I can't walk around in wet clothes. They won't dry. I brought spares?" Stiles says. his skin is bumped from the cold, his nipples hard points on his chest. Derek's mouth waters. 

Derek nods shortly and turns his back, but the image of a nearly-nude Stiles is etched in his mind. Not that he can do anything about it right now. They have to get far away from Delphi, and this small clearing isn't far enough.

Derek's own clothing is wet, as well, but unlike Stiles, he doesn't have spares. 

"Okay, I'm done," Stiles says. Amusement colors his words and when Derek turns back, he's smiling. "Which way?"

Derek would know his way home no matter where he was. All he has to do is follow the pull of home and pack and safety. He can feel some pack members like Peter, Cora, and his mother, but they aren't at home. Laura is left in charge for now at the villa, and has several pack members helping as they wait for the alpha's return.

He points. "This way." He knows Stiles can't move as fast as he can, and wishes they had horses. 

Seeming to read his mind, Stiles says, "There's a stable nearby. We could ride rather than walk."

Derek makes a face. "I don't have any gold on me."

Stiles grins. "Good thing I brought my savings, then."

Which is how they end up with two very decent horses, and outrun anyone who may be chasing them once the ruse is found out.

* * *

They stop once it's too dark to travel. Though Derek can see in the dark, the horses can't, and Stiles is falling asleep in the saddle, besides.

There's a convenient inn, and Stiles goes right to sleep in the one bed provided. Derek stays awake, on guard. His shirt is drying by the fire, so he's only wearing a short tunica, for modesty's sake. He's used to nudity, but only with his pack. Not humans, and not Stiles. 

He hears a noise outside, and two people murmuring. Immediately he's on his guard, grabbing a sword and prowling around the room. It's after two in the morning, no one should be out and about unless they're up to something.

"Derek?" Stiles asks groggily. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," Derek says, trying to listen.

Stiles sits up in bed. Derek can feel his eyes on him, but he needs to focus.

"Damn," Stiles says. 

Derek strains to hear the voices, but they've moved on. In small increments, he begins to relax.

"What was it?" Stiles asks. He sounds wide awake now.

"I thought I heard something," Derek says. "What are you looking at?"

"You. Shirtless. With a sword," Stiles answers promptly.

"You should go back to sleep," Derek says, grateful for the dark that hides his flushing face.

"Nah," Stiles says. "I'm wide awake now. Come here and kiss me."

Derek swallows hard. He can smell the arousal in the room now. 

"Maybe put the sword down first, though," Stiles adds.

Derek huffs a laugh and puts the sword back in its scabbard. "Are you sure you want me to kiss you?"

"I figured the kissing is a good start, at least," Stiles says. He's smiling. And not wearing much more than Derek is.

Derek stalks over to the bed and smells Stiles's arousal grow. 

Stiles props up on one arm, looking like everything Derek's been craving for weeks. "Do you need a formal invitation or something?"

Derek slides his hand around one of Stiles's ankles. It's slender, warm, and all Derek wants is more skin. So he tugs Stiles closer to him, maybe a little forcefully, and Stiles squeaks.

"Okay, let's do this, then," Stiles says. "How, um, we can still start with kissing, right?"

Derek puts his knee on the bed, then moves so that he's hovering over Stiles's body. Hot, delicious smelling body. He holds back from everything, though. Stiles's words have him realizing things. "You're a virgin?"

"Kind of had to be," Stiles says. "Is that, um, a problem?" His eyes are wide and liquid, like he might cry from frustration if Derek stops.

"No, baby," Derek reassures. He lets a hand roam up Stiles's side, tugging at what's left of his clothes. "I just need to know."

Stiles isn't about to lie there quietly while Derek touches him, though. He surges up and kisses Derek, wrapping his arms around his neck. He makes beautifully hungry noises, and Derek's content to let him. It keeps him busy while Derek finishes undressing him. And then Stiles is naked, hot skin pressed against Derek's. Derek moans and kisses him deeper, letting his hands splay over Stiles's smooth, lightly-muscled body.

Derek pets and explores, and when he gets his hands on Stiles's ass he squeezes. Stiles's ass must have been shaped by the gods themselves, and Derek only wants to bite down. He controls himself, barely, but does let himself manhandle Stiles into another position so he can taste the slick he smells.

Omegas are rare, and while Stiles isn't the first Derek has met, he's the first Derek's had in his bed. So when the first burst of sweet flavor hits his tongue, Derek whines like a pup. It's amazing. Derek only wants more.

He spreads Stiles's cheeks wider and exposes his rosy hole. Watches as a drop of thick slick attempts to roll over Stiles's perineum and to the sheets below. No, Derek won't let that happen. He flattens his tongue and licks it up, then goes into the source for more.

Stiles makes a delicious noise that's a cross between a squeak and a moan. "Oh gods," he says breathlessly. " _Derek!_ "

Derek growls in response, then uses his finger, slick with spit and Stiles's own natural lubrication, to press inside. It doesn't take him long to find Stiles's sweet spot, but even before he presses against it, Stiles is babbling for more, to be filled up, and Derek guesses that has something to do with being an omega. 

"It's okay," he says roughly. "We'll get there."

"Need it _now_ ," Stiles insists.

"Gotta stretch you first," Derek reminds him.

Stiles groans and presses back against him greedily. "Well, hurry."

If Derek wasn't already hard as stone, he would get there just from Stiles's enthusiasm. 

Stiles's body opens beautifully, as if made for Derek's fingers, for his cock, and soon Derek has three thick fingers inside him, twisting and making Stiles come off the bed and beg for his cock. "More," is repeated again and again, and Derek does his best to comply. 

His wolf is eager to mate the boy. Derek is in agreement. 

"Wait," Stiles says when Derek slides his fingers out. He stills, and watches as Stiles rolls over and pushes his ass out toward him. Presenting himself to be bred, as if he's already in heat.

Derek can't form words once he takes in the sight. His tunica is in the way so he rips it off. Then he growls and guides his cock head to Stiles's stretched and eager hole. He barely gets the tip inside when Stiles is rocking back, taking him in, and Derek loses all control he'd managed to keep a grip on.

He fucks Stiles deep, and Stiles cries out. Derek has the presence of mind to pause, but Stiles is already shaking his head and begging for more. 

"Baby," Derek manages to say, then does just as Stiles asks and starts fucking him like he needs to. Like they both need.

Soon they are moving in tandem, working together to get Derek deep, and hard, and fill Stiles up like he keeps whining for. 

And really, Derek should have expected it, but when his knot starts to swell, it takes him by surprise. Stiles, though…

"Yes, give it to me, c'mon, fuck me, give me your knot, need it, gods," the boy babbles. 

Once Derek gets over the shock of it, his mind gives him another shock and he knows he has to speak up.

"What if you get pregnant?" he blurts.

" _Yes!_ " Stiles replies, trying to rock back and take the knot. But Derek holds him in place by the hips so he can't get it.

"Think a moment, Stiles. Think," Derek says in his most commanding voice.

Stiles whines and groans in frustration. "I'm not in _heat_ , I know what I'm saying. I am all for having your babies, Derek. But we can wait. If you need."

"I think this isn't something we should discuss in the middle of sex, amazing as it is," Derek says.

Stiles sounds like he's about to start sobbing. "I am so close, I need… gods, Derek, I need to _come_!"

Derek pulls out of him, ignoring the whine of disappointment Stiles makes. He gently rolls him over and Stiles puts his arm over his face to hide. He can't hide the hitch in his breath, though, and Derek knows he has to fix this immediately or he's going to have a big problem on his hands.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," Derek soothes. His wolf is whining almost as much as Stiles. _Make it better_.

Derek ignores his cock, his knot, and slides down Stiles's body. He takes the smaller, dripping dick into his mouth and hooks one of Stiles's legs over his shoulder so he can reach him easily. His fingers find Stiles's hungry hole again and this time when he fingers him, his mouth is too busy to talk.

Stiles's cock fits Derek's mouth perfectly, and Stiles soon understands how he's going to come, now. 

"Oh gods, that feels amazing," Stiles manages to say. Then, "More fingers, please, make me feel it!"

Derek is happy to comply. Stiles's hole is stretched already, and so slick now that four fingers make their way easily. He sucks and licks and sucks some more at Stiles's cock, and then Stiles is practically levitating off the bed as he comes.

As beautiful a sight it is, Derek is positively throbbing and light-headed. Luckily, Stiles comes to his senses right away after he comes, and after only a moment enjoying his afterglow, he reaches out to Derek and helps him.

"Wow," Stiles says when his fingers try to wrap around the girth of Derek's knot. Derek can't tell if he's impressed or a little frightened, but however Stiles feels, he doesn't let it stop him from exploring and figuring out just what Derek needs to make him come.

Stiles uses both hands, and his mouth is left open for kissing. He makes a surprised sound, presumably when he tastes himself on Derek's lips. 

"Derek," Stiles whispers against his mouth. "Show me what you like."

Derek wraps his hand over Stiles's and squeezes tighter, showing Stiles what to do with the knot. They moan together, and then Stiles gets the picture and starts handling Derek a little less hesitantly.

Desperate to come now, Derek kisses Stiles harder, rougher, and Stiles tightens his hand to mimic the hot clench of his body. Derek doesn't need anything more than that, he's already on the edge. He comes with a shout and a howl, then collapses against Stiles's neck.

Moments or maybe an hour later, they're in the same position, dozing, and Derek thinks he hears Stiles whisper something that might be important. But he's too far into the dark to understand, though he falls asleep feeling happy and content.

* * *

Stiles is asleep in the saddle when they come up to the villa. It's been a long trek for a human. After their night at the inn, they had to take a ship, passage paid for by Stiles, but it wasn't a long sail. Somehow, the captain avoided pirates, and Derek wondered if their smooth journey was a gift from the gods. 

They only spent the one night making love, but it's still fresh on Derek's mind every time he looks at Stiles. He wants to talk to him, to figure things out, make them clear, but he's not sure what Stiles wants or needs so he's so far avoided the topic.

Derek knows what he wants for himself, but he's afraid it's too selfish a wish. Stiles is — or was — the Pythia, the famed Oracle of Delphi, and asking him to give it up in exchange for a more domestic life with Derek's pack, may be reaching for a star too far.

Stiles wakes when Derek helps him from the saddle. "Where are we?"

"Home," Derek says. "My home."

Stiles smiles at him and falls against him in an embrace. "Thank you."

"You'll be safe here. No one can touch you here."

"You can," Stiles murmurs sleepily.

Derek's wolf rumbles happily. "Come on in, let's get you to bed," Derek says. "We can talk about the touching later, once you've gotten some sleep."

Stiles mock-pouts, but he's so tired he can't keep it up. His eyes are closing again.

Laura meets them inside, but quickly assess the situation and lets them go, but not before telling them she's had a message from the alpha, their mother, apprising them of the situation with Stiles's father. They found him, unharmed, and were bringing him back to the agora.

Stiles sags in relief. Laura eyes him, and Derek knows there will be lots of questions later. Then she lets them go without any more conversation.

Derek gets Stiles settled into his own bed, which makes him feel something warm and expansive in his chest. His wolf is pleased; Stiles is where he belongs.

But Derek's human side isn't so sure.

"Where you going?" Stiles whines when Derek moves away from the bed.

Derek blinks.

"Come here," Stiles says, extending his arms. Then he pats the bed as if Derek didn't already get the hint.

"You sure?" Derek asks, but Stiles is frowning and yeah, he's sure. So Derek gets into the bed, still wearing most of his traveling clothes.

Stiles clings to him like Derek might change his mind and leave after all. Derek wraps an arm around him and nuzzles the top of his head. It's dusty from the road and smells of a long day in the sunshine, but beneath that it's the scent that's Stiles, that's something Derek doesn't want to put into words. Home, mate, forever companion. Things he's too afraid to hope for.

Stiles falls asleep almost immediately, as tired as he is. Derek thinks he won't, that he'll stay alert like he did on the road, but now that he's home at the seat of his pack and family, he's able to let his defenses down and he knows it. Tiredness crashes into him, and he gives up trying to fight it off. He follows Stiles into sleep.

* * *

They sleep late, until the sun is already past streaming in through the windows, until it's high in the sky. Derek wouldn't even move if not for Stiles's growling stomach. Derek's hungry too, but he would have been willing to just sleep in, holding on to Stiles, breathing in his scent. 

But hunger gets them moving. Breads, cheeses, fruits, and wine greet them when they go downstairs, and they fall on the food like they're starving. Stiles eats almost as much as a wolf. 

Laura at least waits for Stiles to eat before whisking him away for a bath and clean clothes. Stiles's eyes are wide as he's taken, looking to Derek for help. Derek just waves, muttering under his breath to Laura, "Don't scare him off, please?" Which he knows she hears, because she smirks right before ducking out of sight with Stiles.

Now that Stiles isn't there to distract him, he notices the three people he sent here to safety. He motions them over, and they come and sit with him.

"Hey, Boyd," Derek greets. "And… Boyd's friends?" He's forgotten the other two's names.

The former acolytes both roll their eyes fondly. "Erica and Isaac," Erica says.

"You getting along okay here?" Derek asks the three. "Can we do anything else for you?"

"You saved the Pythia," Isaac points out. "That and safety is all we wanted."

"But…" Erica says.

Derek tilts his head and waits for her to go on. She looks nervous.

"Do you think your mom would like us in her pack?" Boyd asks for her.

Derek sits back and looks at them. They seem nervous, all three of them, though Boyd is hiding it more. 

"I don't see why not," Derek assures them. "But you need to talk to her, not me."

They look more hopeful though, and he's glad he could ease their fears a little. The three of them wander away soon after, and Derek's thoughts turn back to his chosen mate.

He goes for a swim in the sea, trying to ease his mind with exercise. He has a lot of nervous energy to work off. He's more than a little worried about what Laura might say to Stiles, and yet he knows Stiles is at least safe with her. And he wants Stiles to like his pack. Laura's more friendly than Cora, and less intense than Peter, so really except for Derek's mother, she's the best family member to start with.

Then he remembers Stiles has already met Peter. Well, that was a productive meeting, and Stiles didn't go running away from Derek afterward, so maybe it was okay.

Not having clean clothes to change into after his swim, Derek switches to wolf form on his way back to the agora. He zigzags in between olive trees of the east grove, then catches Stiles and Laura's scents on the wind. He turns that way, his wolf instincts close to the surface and pushing him to be near his chosen mate. 

Stiles is completely unafraid when he sees him, recognizing him immediately. "Derek," he breathes, surprise and awe brightening his scent.

Derek pads forward and Stiles reaches out to him.

"Aren't you beautiful. I've seen this in my dreams, but in person you're even more gorgeous," Stiles says.

"Now you've done it," Laura says. "He's got a big head already."

Derek ignores his sister and preens, enjoying the way Stiles's fingers slide through his fur.

Laura sighs. "I guess I'll leave you two alone. Remember what I said, Stiles."

Derek perks his ears in question, and Stiles nods. "I will." He waits until Laura is gone from view and says, "Okay, big guy. We need to talk."

Derek tilts his head.

"As humans, I think," Stiles says fondly.

Sighing, Derek turns around and heads back to his room. Stiles follows behind, quiet and smelling nervous. Derek changes back once they're in private, and Stiles yelps.

"Oh, gods! You do that fast," he says, eyeing Derek's nude body. "And um. Maybe cover up. Just a little."

Derek smiles. "If you insist." He sits down on the bed and flips a sheet over his lap. "Okay?"

Stiles swallows audibly. "Yeah. Yes. Okay."

"What has you so nervous? What did Laura say to you?" Derek asks.

"She explained some things about wolf-born relationships," Stiles answers slowly, as if trying to find the right words. But then he stops, and smells frustrated and nervous again.

"Okay," Derek says. He pats the bed beside him for Stiles to sit with him. "Come here, baby."

Stiles sits down, looking at him hesitantly. "How do you feel about me? Do you even like me beyond… I mean. I mean, do you like me like you want to bed me, or do you like me like you want to mate me, or um, claim me?"

Derek reaches out and touches Stiles's face. Stiles leans into the touch, but he doesn't close his eyes like he seems to want to. 

"I want you in my bed, you know I do," Derek says. Stiles starts to pull back but Derek goes on. "Every night. For the rest of our lives, I want you in my bed. I want you in my life. I want you as my chosen mate."

Stiles blinks at him and then his face transforms into a beautiful smile that reminds Derek of sunrise. "Really? Then why... I mean, you didn't want to knot me."

"Not without talking to you about children first," Derek says seriously. "Do you want them?"

"Yes. With you? Of course," Stiles says.

"Soon?" Derek asks. "Because if you don't, you have to talk to Laura about… things. She'll know how to keep you from getting pregnant."

Stiles's face is pink now, but he's still smiling and his eyes are bright. "I don't want to wait for that, either," he says. Then adds quickly, "Unless you do."

Derek grins so hard his face hurts. "You'll let me claim you, and have my pups, and be my mate?" It's sounds too good to be true and he wants to be sure.

"Yes, all of that," Stiles says. 

"But what about Delphi? And serving Apollo?" Derek asks.

"Lydia will make a good Pythia, and I can serve the gods right here," Stiles says, calmer than expected. "I knew when we left that I wouldn't be going back."

Derek can't hold back anymore, he has to kiss Stiles. His chosen mate. His forever companion. Stiles takes no issue with being pulled in and kissed breathless.

"Is there, Derek wait, stop a minute," Stiles says with a laugh, after they've kissed for several minutes. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"I'll knot you," Derek says, deeper than he intends. He clears his throat. "I'll knot you and bite you."

"Laura said as much," Stiles says. 

"It'll probably hurt," Derek says. "Or at least be sore after, but a mating bite heals quickly."

"Where will you bite me?" Stiles asks. "Just so I'm prepared."

Derek slides a hand over Stiles's neck and rests it where it meets his shoulder. "Right there."

"Can I bite you back?" Stiles wants to know.

Derek laughs, delighted. "Any time. But yes. It's not unheard of."

"And will you be mine as much as I'm yours?" Stiles asks.

Derek kisses him gently. "Always."

Stiles takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "Let's do this, then!"

"What, now?" Derek asks.

"As soon as possible," Stiles says. "You can't keep looking like that with no clothes on and expect me to just sit here with you."

"I feel my my pack coming closer," Derek says. "The ones who went to rescue your father. Once we're mated, we won't want to be separated for awhile, but you probably want to see your father once he's here."

"Oh, good point," Stiles says. His eyes roam over Derek's bare chest. "But maybe we can practice until then?"

"Just a little," Derek concedes. "I don't want us to have to stop ourselves and test our control."

"I'd like to put my mouth on you," Stiles admits. His eyes are dark with promise. "You can show me what you like."

Derek swallows hard. He can't say no to that.

* * *

Hours later, they clean up and dress to meet the returning group. As soon as the stranger — presumably Stiles's father — comes into view, Stiles runs out to him. They practically crash into each other and hold on tight. Derek smiles, happy to see them together.

"Everything safe, now?" Derek asks as he sidles up to his mother and Peter.

"We killed the instigator, he was an Argent." Talia says it as if he should know the name.

"Is that good or bad?" Derek asks.

Peter makes a sound of derision. "They've been a thorn in our side for centuries. But it seems he wasn't expecting us, which was good. We got the old man, the 'masked man' you encountered in Delphi. His son was there, but he didn't seem to know anything about his father's actions and we believe him."

"He didn't want revenge?" Derek asks.

Talia smiles. "No. After we explained what had been happening, he vowed to clean up his father's mess in Delphi and actually apologized. Then when we found your oracle's father, he apologized to him, too."

"And there was no one else?" Derek asks, wary.

"Chris — that was the son's name — said he'd handle the rest of the family." The way Peter says Chris's name makes Derek raise his eyebrows.

Peter sees the expression and rolls his eyes, but not before Derek catches a whiff of his embarrassment. Derek's about to say more, but then Stiles and his father are right in front of him, and the father is sizing him up and Stiles is beaming.

"This is my father. Dad, this is Derek. My future mate. Well I mean, he's my mate now, but we haven't made it official yet," Stiles says in a rush. "Derek, may I present John Noah Stilinski, my father. Your future father-in-law."

Derek nods stiffly at Stiles's father and offers a handclasp. "It's an honor to meet you."

"I hear it's your doing that I've been rescued," Stilinski says, still not smiling, but willing to shake Derek's hand. 

"Most of it was Peter, sir," Derek says, not wanting to take all the credit. "I just helped. He's the brains."

"I've had time to talk to Peter and your sister and mother," Stilinski says seriously. "Don't sell yourself short, son."

"My number one concern has been keeping Stiles safe," Derek says, glancing at his chosen mate, who's still beaming widely.

"And to me, that's the most important thing," Stiles's father says. He releases Derek's hand to clap him on the shoulder. "Call me John."

"Yes, sir. John," Derek corrects. 

John looks at his son. "Is he always so serious?"

Stiles grins and shakes his head. "No, he's just nervous about making a good impression on you, Dad."

John grunts. He looks around and says, "Well, you going to invite me in? I hate to mention it, but these old bones don't take to being kidnapped and held captive by a sadistic man old enough to be my father."

Stiles's expression turns to worry. Talia directs them to the guest suite, and they all walk inside. 

Derek is left with Peter and Cora, the rest of the pack having gone on to clean up after their journey and find food. Derek looks at his sister and uncle and says, "Thank you for this. From the bottom of my heart."

Cora answers first. "No big. Stiles is pack now, right? Or at least will be soon. That makes John pack by extension, and there's no way we'd leave him in that situation."

"I owe you," Derek tells her. Then to Peter, "You, too."

"While I'm happy to be owed favors when the situation warrants it, I don't believe this is one of those times," Peter says. "You found your mate, Derek. That's no small matter. Of course we want you to be happy, and your mate with you. This is what pack does, nephew."

Derek wants to hug them, but he holds back. He doesn't want to make more of a scene than he already has, and he's still feeling self-conscious after his first meeting with John.

"So the son's really going to handle this?" he says instead.

Peter's lip twitch at the mention of him. "Chris seemed determined to make up for his father's misdeeds. Though he did mention a sister who wasn't there at the time, and told us to be wary of her."

"Dangerous?" Derek asks.

"Time will tell," Peter says.

"She sounded pretty intense, and a Daddy's girl," Cora says. "But Peter and I will be on the lookout. If she shows up here, she's dead. Right, Peter?"

Peter smiles indulgently at her. "That's right." He's been grooming her to be his heir, to be the Enforcer of the pack. She's taken to it well.

"Go on," Cora says. "I know you want to be near the Pythia."

"Stiles," Derek corrects. "I don't think he's going back to being an oracle. He wants… me. A family."

"Excellent," Peter says. "It's about time you settled down."

"You're ten years older than me, and you haven't," Derek points out.

Peter waves that away as if it's inconsequential. Cora laughs.

"Do as Cora says," Peter tells him. "Go be with your mate."

* * *

For two days, Stiles and Derek spend time with the pack, Stiles's father included. Derek sits back and watches as Stiles gets to know his family. He watches as he smiles, laughs loudly with his head thrown back. Then Stiles will look over at Derek to see if he's listening, if he heard the joke Peter or Cora made, but Derek is just focused on the way Stiles looks so right and happy here in the agora.

For two nights, they love each other, getting to know each other's bodies slowly. They have decided to take it slow, so they do, and somehow (somehow) they manage not to go so far that Derek's teeth end up in Stiles's neck. Not yet. Soon, though.

Derek is awake after the second night, watching Stiles smile in his sleep. The sun won't be up for another hour or so, but Derek wants to see how the light touches Stiles when it comes in through the windows. 

Something else comes in first — the scent of smoke. Derek gets up from the bed where he was lounging and grabs his sword.

"Der?" Stiles asks sleepily. "Wassit?"

Derek paces over to the windows where he can see an orange glow in the distance. "The vineyards are on fire."

Stiles sits up in bed. "What?" He seems wide awake, now.

"Stay right here," Derek says sharply, then runs out of the room to see if the rest of the pack has noticed yet. His mother is already running down the steps. Peter's right behind her.

Outside, they look around and see it's not just the vineyard, but the olive grove closest to the house. Since the fire is coming from both directions, it's obvious that someone is behind it, and Peter nods to himself.

Derek's mother starts splitting the pack up to take care of the blazes. She sends Derek over to the grove. 

"Be careful. Watch your back," she adds before he nods and moves to obey. Laura is ordered to go with him to help, along with two other pack members.

The fire is spreading fast, almost too fast to stop it. But Laura quickly sees the way, and soon they have a scattered line from the nearby spring to the grove, and they pass buckets along as fast as they can. Soon they get the blaze under control. They've lost some olive trees, but no one is hurt and they've got trees to spare — here at the agora and all over the island. 

Derek turns and is walking back to the house when something he sees stops him in his tracks. A strange woman has Stiles in a hold in front of her body and a knife to his throat.

"Get out of the way," the woman says. "I'm taking him out of here."

"The hell you are," Derek growls.

There's blood on the side of Stiles's head, coming from a small cut. At least it looks like a small cut, but Derek can't get close enough to see. He takes a step forward and the woman moves her knife closer to Stiles.

Derek takes a step back again. "Let him go."

"No, see, this is the Pythia!" the woman says. "My father had him, and he tried to run, but he's not getting away from me. He's going to pay for killing my father…"

"He didn't kill anyone," Derek says, trying to stay calm, but the woman is looking more and more unhinged.

"My father is dead!" she screams, brandishing the knife ahead of them, toward Derek now.

And then Stiles does something so fast Derek almost can't see it. He twists, falls, and stabs upward with the dagger Derek didn't see. He gets the woman in the stomach and she doubles over.

Stiles moves back fast, away from her, and Derek moves in to finish her off. She goes down for good by a slash of his claws, and then Derek's got Stiles in his arms, holding onto him tightly.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks him, looking at his face, wiping away blood with his thumb.

Stiles starts to shake, and shake. "Yeah."

Derek holds on to him tighter, feeling him tremble in his arms.

The rest of the pack must have heard, or smelled the blood, because they come running — at least the ones not still fighting the fire in the vineyard. Peter especially looks concerned. 

"How is he?" Peter asks, not sparing a glance at the body yet.

"Stiles!" his father calls, sprinting toward him.

Stiles leans away from Derek and assures them he's fine. He doesn't look fine to Derek.

Peter looks down at the body with contempt. "This must be Kate. Chris warned us about her."

Derek growls, his wolf wanting to get Stiles away from this place. The smoke and blood and danger fill the air, and he needs to protect. It doesn't help that Stiles just keeps shaking.

"Son?" John says. He looks almost as concerned as Derek feels.

Peter nods to himself and says, "I had the cottage on the south end of the cottage prepared for you two when I got back. It's fully stocked, so if you want to take Stiles away from here…" He gives Derek a meaningful look.

John looks confused, but Derek understands. It's for the claiming. 

Claiming is the last thing on Derek's mind at the moment, though. He just needs to get Stiles away from the fire and blood.

Stiles is staring down at the body on the ground. He doesn't seem to have heard Peter.

"Let's go," Derek tells him gently.

Stiles looks at him, searches his face. "What?"

Derek runs a hand through Stiles's hair. "We're getting away from here. Okay?"

"Was she alone?" Stiles asks. 

Derek doesn't know the answer, but Peter does. 

"There's no scent of accomplices, so this must have been a lone venture for her," Peter says.

Stiles slumps against Derek and smells of relief. "Okay."

Derek scoops him up and holds him close against his chest. "Let's go, baby."

* * *

Stiles is mostly asleep, his face pressed into Derek's neck, when they arrive at the cottage. Derek takes him inside and strips him down, and starts to clean him up. Eventually, the scent of danger, smoke, and fear is washed away with the blood, allowing Derek to breathe easy again.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbles. "You, now."

Derek grimaces when he looks down at himself. He's covered in soot and the woman's blood. 

Stiles sits up. "Lemme help."

"You're hardly even awake," Derek says with a smile, but Stiles is still able to pull off Derek's clothes and help him clean spots he can't see or reach.

"There, better," Stiles says, looking him over.

Derek almost lost him tonight. A shudder runs through him at the thought.

"What?" Stiles asks.

"You," Derek says, tilting Stiles's chin up and looking into his eyes. "You were so brave."

"I was scared out of my mind," Stiles says ruefully.

"Brave," Derek says again, then kisses him chastely.

They tangle together in the cottage's single bed and fall asleep that way, clinging, needing to hold the other close.

* * *

Derek wakes to Stiles's low moans and half-awake murmurs of, "Please, Der. Please."

Stiles is hot to the touch and flushed all over. More than that, he smells _ready_ , and Derek knows he's in heat before he's fully out of his dreams.

"Wake up, Stiles," Derek says. He pulls away slightly, thinking that might get Stiles's attention.

It does. Stiles's eyes flutter open and he pouts. "Derek. C'mon, come back."

Derek frowns. "I thought your heat wasn't due for another month."

"It's not," Stiles says, wiggling to get closer. Then his eyes fly open. "Oh. I'm in _heat_!"

"Yeah, you are," Derek says with a laugh. "Let me up, I'll get you some water. It must have just started."

"Hurry back," Stiles says. "I'm not likely to stay lucid for too long."

Derek rushes out to the back of the cottage and draws water. His mate is in heat! He definitely didn't expect their claiming to have this added complication, but now he's eager to show Stiles how he can provide for all his needs.

His cock, already at half-mast, hardens at the thought of _providing_ for Stiles during his heat.

When he gets back, Stiles looks like he's trying to get out of bed. 

"Whoa, where are you going?" Derek asks, sliding over and putting a cup of water on the bedside table.

"You were gone too long," Stiles complains.

"Are you ready?" Derek has to be sure. "This is a big step."

Stiles rolls his eyes and makes grabbing motions. "I've been waiting for days. I want you to claim me, c'mon, Derek."

Derek smiles and crawls on top of him, slowly, kissing his way up from Stiles's feet to his chest and neck. 

Stiles complains at the pace, wiggling and writhing beneath him, telling him with his hot skin and soft whimpers that he needs more now. When Derek doesn't pay enough attention, Stiles starts talking.

"Derek, I swear if you don't hurry it up, I'm running out of this cottage to find someone who _will_ knot me," Stiles threatens.

Derek growls and presses down, even though he clearly heard the lie in Stiles's heartbeat. "You're not going anywhere," he says, pinning Stiles's wrists to the bed. "You're mine."

Stiles grins up at him. "Not yet, I'm not. You'd better hurry up and claim me."

"Glady," Derek says, and takes Stiles's mouth with his own. It's hotter than the fire that raged in the grove. Derek breathes in, takes in the scent of his mate, of his omega, the desire and need. Derek feels over-hot, too, as if _he's_ the one in heat. He can't get inside Stiles fast enough, but he has to make sure he's ready.

His hands slide down Stiles's body, skin on skin, not quite rough but not gentle, either. Stiles throws a leg to the side, almost banging Derek in the face with his foot, but then he's spread wide open and Derek can barely think to test how wet he is. He can smell it, though, sweet and tangy in the air, hot and slick on his fingertips.

At the first touch, Stiles moans and grasps at him, trying to simultaneously take him in with a roll of his hips and complaining that it's not Derek's cock.

" _Derek_!" Stiles cries out, writhing under his body impatiently. "What are you waiting for? Fuck me _now_!"

Derek huffs a laugh and presses two fingers inside him. Testing the stretch, the give.

"I'm ready, I promise, c'mon Der," Stiles whimpers, his blunt fingernails digging into Derek's biceps now.

Derek wants to devour him, to taste him, but even more, he needs to sink down inside the grasping heat of Stiles's body to give him what he needs.

He lines up and feels the fat head of his cock as it pops right inside Stiles's hole, then gives in to the strangled demand of, "More, deep, come _on_!" that Stiles gives him.

He presses close, his body covering Stiles's, and Stiles wraps every possible limb around him as Derek begins to fuck him. It's slow at first, and Derek is overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions he's feeling because this is it, he's claiming his chosen mate.

He can't stop to ponder, though. Stiles is demanding closer-deeper-fuller-more, _more_ , and Derek gets lost in the way his body responds to every strangled shout and pleased whimper. 

"Fuck me," Stiles cries, nonsensically because that's exactly what Derek is doing. Then, as Derek's cock begins to swell at the base and Stiles feels it start to bump against his hole, there's a quick rearrange of limbs and Derek can comfortably wrap his hand around Stiles's cock as he knots him. 

"Need…" Stiles says, and then Derek's fangs are clamping down.

Derek tastes blood at the same moment Stiles's body goes stiff and he cries out, come spurting out over Derek's fist. Derek licks at the mark he made, stroking Stiles through his orgasm. Derek starts coming then, and moments later, Stiles is clenching down and milking him, taking everything.

Mated. Claimed. Knotted and bred, though there's a chance it won't take the first time. 

"Heat just started," Stiles says in a slurred, satisfied voice. "Got plenty of chances to put pups in me."

"How are you still talking?" Derek wonders aloud.

Stiles squeezes around his knot and moans, then says, "Issa gift."

Derek reaches up and touches Stiles's mating bite, which is already healing. It'll scar nicely, then. It's apparently sensitive.

Stiles moans again and grabs Derek's hand. "Don't think I've forgotten," he says, and Derek doesn't know what he's talking about until Stiles sinks his human teeth right into Derek's wrist. A jolt goes through Derek at the sensation, and his cock twitches as it's locked in Stiles, pumping more come inside.

"Now you're claimed, too," Stiles mutters smugly.

Derek looks at his wrist and sees the teeth marks, round and silvery like the moon. He grins and wraps his arms around his mate, holding on tightly. He never wants to let go.

Stiles hums. "Saw this in a vision. Couldn't see your face but I knew. I knew I'd be happy like this one day."

"Yeah?" Derek asks.

"Yeah. Kept me going when I would have otherwise given up." Stiles presses back a little and kisses Derek's hand. 

Derek takes advantage of this short lucid break in Stiles's heat, letting Stiles talk while he rests. (He knows he'll need it.) Stiles's words wash over him as he closes his eyes. 

He's made his mate happy, and Derek can't express what that means to him. There's one thing he can say, though. "Love you, Stiles."

Stiles makes a happy sound. "I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this.


End file.
